


where it is you might be going

by jestbee



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 - 2017, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Editor!Phil, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, actor!dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:24:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: Phil takes the editing internship in 2010 and Dan doesn’t hear from him again until he runs into him in a restaurant bathroom a year later.





	where it is you might be going

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @phandomficfests Valentine’s Fic Fest! 
> 
> The biggest of all thanks goes to @templeofshame who was the best beta anyone could ask for during this. Especially when I said this was going to be a 5k fic and it grew into a monster neither of us were expecting. 
> 
> Not only did you make my fic better with your guidance, you listened to me whine about it and offered encouragement at every turn. Thank you. 
> 
> Also a thanks to anyone who came to a writing chat room and word-warred with me. Couldn’t have finished without you guys!  
> that being said... on with the fic.

**February 2011**  
_Manchester_

Dan adjusts his tie for the fifth time where it's choking him. He feels hot, sticky, and awkward in his blazer and he's sure the waiter had given his jeans a disparaging look as he'd seated him.

He glances toward the door again as it opens and she steps in. He watches as she gives her name, tossing her hair over her shoulders. It's a dark red at the moment and the inside of the shower in his uni halls is stained a subtle pink as a result. He remembers ducking out from under her hand as she'd waved the bottle at him too. Come on she'd said, it'll look good. Their laughter echoed off the tiles as they thumped against the door, pulling her to him, waist fitting neatly into his large hands. He'd kissed her until the colour on her head developed enough to wash it off, it was a little new, but a little familiar too, five months in. 

The scent of hair dye in the air had been a little unpleasant, acrid and pungent in the confined space. He'd kissed her anyway, trying not to think about it.

The Maitre D takes her coat and she's wearing a red dress he doesn't recognise. Maybe she bought it especially for tonight like he did with the white shirt he's wearing. 

He stands as she comes to the table, because he's seen people do that. He kisses her cheek and uses a flat palm on the dip of her back to guide her in to the chair. As if she can't do it by herself. The waiter passes them both menus and asks if she'd like a drink while they peruse them. 

Once he's gone, and the pretence has washed off a bit, she turns back to him. 

"Fucking hell Dan, this place is fancy." 

He grins. It's not, really, but it's fancier than their usual pizza express visits. 

"What can I say Hevs," he says, "You're worth it." 

She gives him a huge smile then, all teeth and freckles across the bridge of her nose. He's glad he can make that happen, that he can get that right.

"Piss off," she says, fondly. 

"Seriously," he continues, reaching over the table to take her hand, "I know I'm shit in so many ways, I can at least do something nice for Valentine's day." 

There's a clatter of dishes behind them and they both crane their necks to see where someone has collided with a waiter carrying empty plates. Luckily none of have have broken but they're still on the floor and the clumsy culprit is crouching next to a flustered server trying to help but really, just making it worse. 

The group of men at the table he's from whoop and holler, fondly making fun of their clumsy friend in a way that suggests it fairly normal behaviour for him.

"Oops," Heather says, pulling an exaggerated sympathy face. 

Dan doesn't see, his head is still turned away from their table, narrowing his eyes at the commotion. His heart jumps up into his throat and the bottom drops out of his stomach because he could swear--

"And what can I get for you two?" 

The server arrives and Dan is pulled back round to the table to fumble his way through ordering food and choosing a wine that doesn't make him seem like an uneducated idiot. It feels very grown up, and that's enough to be focussing on. 

They get through dinner and Dan only manages to fuck up a little when he forgets the name of her friend mid way through a story she's telling but he sometimes finds it hard to keep up. She has a lot of friends. That's kind of what she's like. 

"So I told Casey that I'd invite Adam to your birthday party, that was they can talk and we can sort of... Ease the way." 

"My birthday party?" Dan says. "I'm having a birthday party?" 

She nods, the waves in her hair jumping around her ears. "Yes. I'm throwing you one." 

"Oh." 

His birthday is months away and her making plans for then seems overly ambitious. Kind of scary. Presumptuous even.

When they've finished dessert and he's sent the waiter off for the bill he makes an escape for a visit to the bathroom. The weight of evening is weighing on him a little. He'll never be the best boyfriend, especially because he knows he's supposed to enjoy that kind of easy commitment she seems so comfortable with. The idea of making plans with her in four months time shouldn't feel like foreboding but it does. But then, everything about his future does. He just has to learn to accept that things feel uncomfortable, that's what being an adult is. 

The bathroom is sterile white and chrome and the mirror on the wall to the right of the sinks reflects back at him, the whole wall covered floor to ceiling. There are grey marble tiles on the floor and his footsteps echo. When he's washing his hands he gives himself a long hard look in the mirror at his blazer and tie and thinks of how someday soon he'll have to wear a proper suit and have people take him seriously. The prospect is awful. 

He's got a paper towel that's thicker than his actual towel back at home drying off his hands when the door opens and someone walks in. He's stood right next to the door so that the guy has to step around him to get into the room.

"Oh, excuse me." 

It's the clumsy guy from the restaurant. The one who had knocked over the waiter. The one with the dark black hair and the too long fringe. The one that sends Dan's stomach plummeting for the second time that evening. Because he's the one that Dan recognises. 

"Phil?" 

He turns back from where he'd been about to go in to a stall, his mouth parted, blue eyes looking Dan up and down. 

"Um," he says, before a look of recognition falls over his features and his eyes go wide, his mouth stretching into a wide wide smile. "Dan? Wow. Oh my God. Dan Howell?" 

"Yep, yes. That's me. I am… him." 

Dan shakes his head, laughing off his awkwardness a little. It's a bit unexpected, all of this. "So crazy that you're here," Phil says, "Why? How? Are you… do you _live_ in Manchester?" 

"Yeah," Dan says, trying not to let how wildly his heart is beating show on his face. "I, um, go to uni here." 

Phil is the same. His hair is about the same as when he last saw it. A little longer maybe, shaggier in some ways, though no where near as long as he knows it once was. He still moves his hands alot when he talks and he's still wearing something brightly coloured even if it does look a little more expensive these days. 

He's still so fucking attractive is the problem.

"That's great," he says, "What are you studying?" 

"Law." 

Phil's eyes do a little shifty thing at that, before blinking it away. 

"Wow, that's great!" 

The forced cheeriness in the face of Dan making stupid decisions is still the same too. 

"It's… okay." 

Dan doesn't know what to say next, what is the protocol when bumping into someone that used to mean so much to you but might as well be a stranger now. 

"Are you here… for Valentine's?"

Stupid. What a stupid thing to ask. Dan has seen him at the table with that large crowd of people so there's no reason for him to think Phil is on a date. And no reason for him to care if he is. 

"I'm with work actually," Phil says, "I don't date much. But I just got given a permanent position so the team wanted to celebrate. Not really my scene."

"Mine either," Dan shrugs. 

Phil casts an eye over his shirt and tie and the uncomfortable jacket and smiles knowingly.

"So, yeah I should probably get back soon," Phil says, "But... " 

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, passing it to Dan with a ease Dan wishes he had. 

"Give me your number, we should catch up." 

That gives Dan a little pause. Because now that the initial shock of seeing Phil again, out of context and out of the blue has worn off, he's beginning to remember what happened to make it so that they haven't spoken in so long. Almost a full year. 

He remembers what it was like before that happened as well, but it makes his cheeks a little hot to think about so he tries not to lest he blush to the tips of his ears right here in the posh bathroom with the floor to ceiling mirror. 

He types his number in quickly, trying not to dwell on it all so much because the reality is that this is unlikely to be a defining moment in his life or anything. Plus he really needs to get back to Heather, the guy has probably brought the bill already and there's that awkward moment when it's sat on the table and he doesn't want her to think she has to pay. Because while he is a shit boyfriend at the best of times, especially in this moment- leaving her alone while he gives his number to an old flame in a toilet- he is still trying to do valentine's day in the right way. 

He passes the phone back, his hand only shaking in the smallest way he hopes Phil won't even notice. 

"It was good to see you," Phil says, conversationally.

"You too," Dan replies, even though he's not really sure that it is. 

His stomach still feels a little jagged around all that rich food and he's having a little out of body moment watching himself raise a hand to wave goodbye and then exit the bathroom. 

He makes his way back to the table and pays the bill and then, because he can't help himself-

"I just bumped into an old friend."

"You did?" 

He helps her put her coat back on over the top of her new dress by the door, wishing they had somewhere different to go back to that wasn't their uni halls. 

"Yeah, just some guy I hung out with for a bit a few years ago. We lost touch. I didn't know he was in Manchester to be honest."

He's not sure why he's omitting half of the story. That too feels like something he should do. Or something he shouldn't. He's beginning to lose sight of the difference.

"That's cool. Are you going to catch up again soon?" 

"Maybe," Dan says, and he's not sure whether he's hoping they will, or wishing that Phil forgets about him all over again. "We'll see."

 

**February 2012**  
_London_

Phil still hates London. It's always crowded. On the underground, on the street, his new office has way more people than the one back home, and now even this house party has more people crammed into a small flat than he'd really like. 

Moving to London had been great, if a bit scary. Getting offered the job in the 'big office' was really flattering, but it had come after a lot of hard work so he's glad it's all paying off. He's just a bit annoyed that it had to be London. 

London where he knows no one except the girl from the office that had invited him to this party. He thinks she might have been flirting with him. She's pretty, and he's not completely opposed to the idea, but he has far too much going on to date anyone properly, and one night stands never work out when it's someone you work with. 

She'd been too nice to rescind the offer after she found out her advances were going anywhere so here he is at a party where he knows very few people, and he's not entirely sure which underground line he needs to get on to get home. He's not really having the best time.

It's all compounded by the fact that he's had a few too many glasses of the punch someone has mixed together. It's kind of a sickly pink colour, watery around the edges where the fruit juice hasn't mixed well with whatever concoction of spirits have been tipped in the bowl, but it tastes okay if not a little strong. He's managed to mindlessly sip away at around four or five glasses of the stuff and so he's feeling a little wobbly. 

It's nearing eleven and he thinks he can probably duck out if he needs to. Leave behind the garish red sparkly decorations and balloons placed ironically against the usual sentiment of the evening. Go back to the quiet of his private studio apartment with the bed high up on a mezzanine level, the velux window above the headboard looking out over his tiny patch of London sky. It's not a spectacular view or anything, but makes him feel kind of dreamy to lay in bed and look at the stars through the slanted glass. 

He's pretty much decided to leave when the front door opens letting in some cold wintery air and along with it two figures bundled into coats and scarves. They fall through the door, almost tripping over each other, giggling and loud. No one else turns to look, but Phil notices. 

He notices mostly because he recognises one of them. He's all dimple cheeked and tall lanky limbs that never seem to sit right. Like his body is always hoping to wake up and find itself smaller but never can. Phil would recognise Dan anywhere. 

He wants to cross the room and say hello. He wants to do a lot of things, images of which his punch-soaked brain decides to throw at him that very second. He swallows around the memory, or fantasy (he isn't sure which) and stays rooted to the spot. 

He can't say anything tonight because last time he'd seen Dan was a year ago where he'd asked for his number in a restaurant bathroom. Because he couldn't help himself. The soft way his straightened fringe fell across his forehead was too much, and the slim cut black blazer and skinny tie that he was obviously so uncomfortable in had sparked something low and animalistic in Phil that made him want to take it off him. Slowly. 

But as he'd come out of the bathroom he saw Dan with a girl in a red dress, his large strong hand on the base of her slim waist, curved around the slope of it and he knew he couldn't bear to disrupt that. And he knew he'd never be able to stop himself if he attempted any contact at all. He made up his mind right then and there that he wouldn't use the number Dan had keyed in to his phone. Because a bit of fooling around three years ago might be enough to leave Phil with a hot swirling tightness in his abdomen, but it really doesn't stack up to much against a girl Dan is taking to fancy restaurants on valentine's day. 

The girl that's still here with him tonight. She's blonde now but Phil recognises her anyway. Dan is laughing and pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, coming in from the cold, surrounded by tasteless, flimsy pink and red decorations. He looks happy. 

Phil makes himself busy getting another drink.

Later, once the room is spinning a little and he feels unsteady on his feet he makes his way to a quiet room just off the kitchen. It turns out to be a utility room, a washing machine and tumble dryer side by side. It's cool in here, and with the door shut the thud of the music from the next room is dulled a bit. There's no on in here so he can lean against the wall with his head in his hands. Just for second, just until the world stops spinning a little. 

He gets a few moments of peace before the door opens and someone else stumbles into the darkness, closing the door behind them. 

"I saw you c'min here," they slur. 

"Dan? What are you doing?" 

"I saw you… come in here. Sneaky sneak person." 

He wavers a little, pointing an accusing finger in Phil's direction. 

"M'not sneaking," Phil says, the back of his head still leaden and drooped back on to the wall. "S'too noisy out there." 

Dan shuffles in to the room and comes to stand right in front of him, so close he can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne. 

"You didn't call," Dan says. 

Phil shakes his head. Then he nods. He's not sure which is the right one. 

"I didn't call," he clarifies. There.

"But why?"

"Oh," Phil says finally understanding. "The red head. Or… well, I guess she's blonde now." 

He lifts his head to look towards the door, as if he expects her to be stood right there watching as Dan stands close enough for Phil's fingers to brush the button on the front of Dan's black shirt. 

"Heather?" 

Phil nods, mostly to himself. 

"Didn't want to get between you and your… girlfriend?" 

"Heather was my girlfriend. But now she is just a girl that is my friend."

"Ah," Phil says, as if that clears anything up. 

"Mostly because I'm gay, Phil. If you must know. I couldn't ever get it right with her, or with any girls." He laughs, "took me a while to realise why."

Phil doesn't really know how to answer that. 

"But you knew that...didn't you?"

"No," Phil says, because he hadn't. 

He knew Dan liked boys, he knew from first hand experience the things Dan liked to do with boys, how his voice got hushed when he talked about it, how he squeezed his eyes shut as Phil stroked hands over his skin. But he hadn't given much thought to labels. 

"Not my girlfriend anymore," Dan repeats. "I'm not a boyfriend or a student or anything anymore. I guess I'm a bit different from when you knew me."

"Okay." Phil says, because he's not sure what else he's supposed to do with that information. Dan is clearly hurting, just a little bit, and Phil isn't the one that should be comforting him.

Dan reaches up and grazes the rise of Phil's cheekbone with just the tips of his fingers, ghosting down over the dip of his top lip, coming to rest where Phil's mouth is parted slightly. He tries not to let his tongue dart forward and taste his skin, doesn't know what it would be like to taste that again. Especially while his head is swimming. 

"You were the first, you know."

Phil hums. He knows. 

"It was a pretty good first," Dan says, his fingers moving away, "as they go."

"G-good," Phil stammers, dizzy with Dan's proximity. 

It feels like a good idea when Dan kisses him. Like dancing somewhere between well-remembered and completely new. 

He's bolder now, leaning Phil back against the wall, covering him from chest to hip as his tongue slips past the join of their lips to flick sensually against Phil's. 

Phil can't do anything but hold on for the ride. 

He grasps at Dan's hips, the curve of them fitting into his palms like they always did except that he's wider now, more sure in his movements. Phil doesn't have to guide him through it, he doesn't have to be the teacher here. Dan has mastered this all on his own. 

Dan pulls back, brown eyes trained on him. They're kind of unfocused, but not so much that he isn't looking intently. 

"Is this okay?" 

Phil pauses. He is a bit drunk, and he's not entirely sure how he'll feel emotionally tomorrow considering that this is Dan and he's not sure he has ever quite forgotten him, not really. But he's not so drunk that he won't remember, and he'd quite like to have that memory tucked away somewhere. To go with the others. 

Besides, he is single and Dan is seemingly single and has come to terms with some big stuff and well… Phil can't help how light and airy that makes him feel. So light and airy and hopeful that he nods. 

"Yes. Please."

Dan doesn’t waste any time. Phil flings his head back, ricocheting off the wall with a loud thud but Dan doesn’t seem to notice. He’s fumbling with Phil’s belt, all blunt wandering fingers and Phil reaches down to help. 

His own fingers won’t seem to cooperate either, but between them they manage to get the zip down and the button undone. 

Dan’s hand plunges into his underwear, wrapping around him quickly. He’s moving as though Phil might tell him to stop any minute, but Phil feel dizzy with the sight of Dan on his knees. He can’t help but think of Dan, eighteen years old with too much hair in his eyes, looking up at Phil, asking him to tell him what to do. Guide him through. 

He doesn’t need any guidance this time, he leans forward and slips Phil’s length into his mouth, wet and sloppy, uncoordinated in all the best ways. He’s haphazard, a blissful surprise every second as he takes Phil further and further until he’s nudging the back of his throat. 

Phil moans, and it's almost loud enough to cover the sound of music from the next room, but not quite. 

“Shit,” he swear, a hand coming up to thread through Dan’s fringe, easing it back so he can look down and see where Dan’s sweet plump lips are stretched around him. 

It’s a sight he didn’t know he’d been missing. 

Dan is enthusiastic, moving quickly right from the get go so Phil has no time to get used to the situation at all. He still feels buzzed from the punch and all too soon he’s wound up so, so tight. Panting and letting out whimpers as Dan laves his tongue over him, swirling and flicking so that Phil never knows what's coming next. 

It’s too much. 

“Dan… I’m… I’m gunna…” 

He tries to ease Dan backward but Dan is having none of it, moaning loudly, muffled by the Phil’s cock. 

Phil grunts, the muscles in his abdomen pulled taught, and he comes, his mind spinning outward and away, flashing white and sparking behind his eyes. He leans back as Dan stands and is vaguely aware of Dan taking himself in hand but he hasn’t got it together enough yet to lend a hand. 

He listens to Dan moan with his eyes shut, recognising the moment Dan comes with a sharp intake of breath. That hasn’t changed, and Phil doesn't know how to feel about the fact that he remembers that.

He opens his eyes as Dan is wiping himself down with a tea towel abandoned on top of the dryer and throwing it back into the laundry hamper beside it. 

Phil doesn’t know what to say, he just watches as Dan fixes his clothes, running a hand down the front of his shirt and through his hair. 

He looks lost for a moment, eyes with flecks of gold wide and unblinking, like he can't believe what just happened. Phil feels much the same. 

Phil shifts away from the wall, starts to right his clothing. He opens his mouth to say something, though he’s not sure what, but Dan cuts him off.

“Well, it was good to see you,” He says, moving towards the door. “Keep in touch, won’t you?”

Dan opens the door and disappears out of the little room before Phil can respond. He pauses with his hands on his belt buckle, still reeling from what just happened. Like he might have dreamed it. 

He can’t find him when he finally gets it together enough to venture back in to the party. No one knows who Dan is when he asks, and so the only thing he can do is go home. 

He does try calling, using the number he got last time. He thinks he probably should, after everything. He has no reason not to. 

The call doesn't ring, it doesn't connect. A mechanical female voice on the other end of the line rings in his hollowed out brain. 

_The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service._

 

**February 2013**  
_London_

Dan checks his hair in the mirror one last time, smooths down his shirt, dusts a speck of lint off his jeans and he's good to go. It's a bit much, perhaps, and Luca is definitely going to roll his eyes but it's Valentines and that should count for something.

He comes back out into the living room and Luca is on his couch with a crinkley, stapled set of papers in his hands, reading softly. He's got one ankle crossed over his other leg, jeans turned up to expose the soft slope of it. Aways so artfully arranged. Nothing is ever by accident. 

"You know your lines, Luke, stop worrying." 

Luca has been memorising lines for a short film he's involved in. A group of serious film types that steamroll over anything Dan says and indicate his theatre dreams pale in comparison to film making. As if that's what he should want instead. 

"Doesn't hurt to check, there are quite a lot of them" he rolls the papers back up, stands and slides them in to his back pocket so they protrude over the back of his shirt. He adjusts his suspenders, and that makes Dan want to roll his eyes. "And don't shorten my name, you know I hate it." 

"Sorry," Dan says, grinning in way that he hopes is cheeky enough to get away with it. "You know, I have lines to learn too. If you want to stay in and do that." 

Luca looks as him and raises an eyebrow slightly. "That's precious, but you don't have that many to learn and I wouldn't want to make you wait around while I learn all of mine."

Dan tries not to let that bother him because Luca doesn't really mean it. He just doesn't think sometimes, and he's right, Dan's only got a small part in some local theatre production. It's nothing to get worked up about.

Luca seems to notice him wavering near annoyance because he opens his arms and ushers Dan to come close. Dan steps in to the space where he knows that he fits and Luca kisses him sweetly. It still takes his breath away.

"Anyway…" he says as they part, "Should we go?" 

"You don't sound very excited."

"I am," Dan shrugs, "I dunno… I guess I thought we'd do something just us. It's Valentine's day." 

Luca comes close to him again, placing his hands on Dan's shoulders and looking him dead in the eye.

"Silly boy," he chides, fondly, "You know Valentines is a completely arbitrary concept. It's all a social construction. Why do I need a singular day to show you my affection? Surely we should manage to express that to each other without the need to name a day for it." 

Luca has always appealed to the more cynical side of Dan. So he knows Luca's right, really. He just can't help that the sad bubble of excitement in his chest pops, that he still had a low thread of pathetic want to be a little cheesy, even if it is just a social construct. 

"I do care about you," Luca says, brushing Dan's hair off his forehead, "a lot." 

They're not quite there yet, to the 'I love you', it hasn't been very long. He's been so used to rushing in the past that he thinks it's better that they're going slowly. It feels a lot more grown up to take his time.

"I care about you too," Dan says instead. Because he does.

"Besides, tonight is really important to me." 

"Yes," Dan nods, feeling really selfish to be thinking about Valentine's day when he knows this evening is about Lucas career. "It is. I know. I put on a shirt and everything." 

Luca does roll his eyes then, like he'd expected him to. 

"You and your obsession with conformity," he says, "It must be exhausting." 

He leans in for a kiss, his beard scratchy against Dan's chin in a way that never fails to remind him that he's kissing a man. He likes it. 

Luca had seemed like the attractive choice. He'd met him in his first class of his new drama course when he'd moved to London permanently after he dropped out of Manchester uni and had taken a chance at doing something he liked for a change. He was a third year student himself, so slightly older than Dan, acting as assistant to his lecturer. He never expected Dan to know what he was doing which was useful, since Dan still really had no idea.

Dan was a different person when he joined the course, in a way that felt tangible. Like he's shed his old skin and was stepping out into the world on new, unsteady legs. 

Luca had seemed worldly, always talking of the places he'd visited and quoting plays Dan had never heard of in a way that made Dan want to impress him, like Luca was the thing that was missing, something to aspire to. He'd taken Dan under his wing and introduced him to this new world, stayed by his side has Dan learned to navigate it. 

It had seemed effortless, at the time, for Luca to know all these things and act the way that he did. Now, Dan knows just how much work goes into it, how careful Luca is about all of those little things, how practised his movements are. So some of the shine has rubbed off a bit but Dan is still here, still working through it, because he doesn't need another relationship to dissolve because everything isn't perfect right from the beginning. 

He's been there and done that before. He's also been in the habit of convincing himself things were perfect when they weren't. He really needs to learn to stick to something for once. 

They leave, and they turn up to the event which is a lot less swanky than Dan had been anticipating, but still nice enough. It's mostly just some smaller film professionals, a lot of behind-the-scenes tech guys and stuff but Luca insists it's good to get his face out everywhere. He doesn't know how Luca manages to wrangle an invite to these things, Dan just tags along for the ride even if film isn't the medium he's really interested in. Mostly he likes theatre, has even been dabbling with writing a play of his own, not that he'd ever tell Luca that of course. 

"Smile Dan, you look like you're here under duress." 

Dan tries to smile as they make a circuit of the room. 

They end up near the food and Luca spots someone he knows. 

"Emmett," he says, "nice to see you." 

"Luca!" 

They shake hands and Dan waits for the moment that he's introduced. It doesn't come. 

He barely concentrates on the conversation, being that he's not really acknowledged at any point but he's brought back in as Emmett exclaims loudly. 

"Oh God," he says, looking up over Dan's shoulder, "here comes my boss. He's so weird." 

Luca laughs, Dan resists the urge to turn around and waits until the approaching person joins their party. When he does, Dan is shocked into silence anyway. 

His hair is shorter. The fringe still swings over his forehead, but it's a little more reined in and the sides are cut up over his ears. He looks good. Dan hopes his face hasn't gone too red at the sight of him. 

Phil doesn't look away from him even as he addresses the others. 

"Emmett," he says, "introduce me to your friends?" 

"This is Luca," Emmett says, "a very talented actor and this is…" 

"Dan," Phil says, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A smirk even. Though Dan suspects he's the only one that notices it for what it is. 

"You know each other?" Luca says, shifting closer to Dan in a way that everyone notices 

"Yeah," Dan says, turning his head as if to look at Luca but unable to tear his eyes away from Phil. 

It's just because it's unexpected, and absolutely nothing to do with what happened last time they saw each other. 

"We go way back," Phil says. "What are you doing with yourself these days?" 

"Oh," Dan is shock to be asked and he glanced over at Luca who has a puzzled look on his face, all right muscles twitching in his jaw line. "I'm err… acting. Well, I'm in uni studying drama."

"The law thing didn't work out?"

"No," Dan says.

"That's great! Well, it is if you're enjoying it. Are you in London?"

"Uh huh."

"And you're enjoying it? The acting?" 

Dan casts a bit of a look around the group because Phil is completely ignoring them all in favour of directly all of his questions as Dan alone. 

"Yes," Dan says, a quick glance in Luca's direction shows that he's a little perturbed by this interaction, "I'm in a show soon, in fact." 

"That's great!" Phil says, looking genuinely happy, "I'd love to go see it--"

"Oh Daniel," Luca says, then turns to Phil, "he's making it out to be something massive…it's just a bit part." 

Luca loops an arm around his waist and presses in close, possessive. Phil raises an eyebrow ever so slightly, a tiny hint of surprise, and then shakes his head. 

"I'm sure it's great," he says, "you deserve it."

Dan can't help the flush of pride that goes through him. He's always wanting to impress Luca, to make Luca say things like that about him. It's always been so easy to illicit praise from Phil. But that's just the type of guy he is, always so forthcoming. 

"So… you're in London too?" 

He blushes a little, because he realises although the last time they saw each other was in this city, they didn't really have time to narrow down the finer details of it all. 

"Yes, got promoted. Well… actually, twice. I'm managing a small team down here now. Emmett is one of the best editors I've got." 

See. Always with the praise.

"Congratulations," Dan says, "you deserve it." 

They smile as each other a little bit until Luca clears his throat and Phil, looking like he'd trade all the world to not have a confrontation right now, makes shifting movements like he suddenly has to go. 

"Well, I came over here to get to the food," he says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "I should just… do that. It was nice to see you Dan." 

He pauses, then catches himself. 

"It was nice to meet you too… um…" 

"Luca." the arm around Dan's waist tightens a little. 

"Right, yes. Nice to meet you Luke. Have a good evening." 

And then he moves away, shifting through the crowd to get to the try of mini quiches and salmon toast.

"Actually my name is--" 

"He's gone," Dan says, turning his head from where he was watching Phil move away. 

"You're right," Luca says to Emmett, "he is weird."

Luca unfolds his arm from around Dan's waist and facing him dead on.

"How do you know him?" 

"Phil? He's… an old friend."

"An old friend?" 

Dan nods, "You're not jealous are you?" 

Luca looks surprised then, like the idea hadn't even occurred to him. 

"No," he says, "I'm just a bit surprised that you seem to be quite pally with someone in the industry and failed to mention it."

"Phil's an editor," Dan says, "I didn't… besides I haven't seen him in…"

"Actually," Emmett cuts in, "Phil is the manager of my department. He started as an editor. Well… actually I hear he started as an intern many moons ago. But there's talk around the office of him directing soon. He's weird but, also kind of a creative genius." 

Dan can't help but smile, because he's glad Phil is doing well, chasing his dreams. It makes the fact that they lost touch kind of worth it, even if it had been painful at the time.

"You see," Luca says, "he is someone worth knowing. We should have him round for dinner."

Dan tries to imagine that. To have Luca and Phil across the table from each other. Lucas cynicism framed by Phil's wild optimism. He can't picture it, or if he can it's a complete disaster.

"I'm not contacting Phil to exploit what is a casual acquaintance at best. Besides, I don't have his number."

Luca looks put out, like Dan is doing this just to spite but just rolls his eyes and falls back into conversation with Emmett. 

Dan lets his eyes scan the room, telling himself that he's not looking for Phil, but doing it all the same. 

Later, when Luca has excused himself to go to the bathroom before they leave, Dan is leaning against a wall near the door when Phil finds him. 

"Hey, I found you."

"Were you looking for me?" 

"No… um, yes. A bit."

Phil laughs and Dan can't help but join in. It's infectious, always has been. 

"I just want to say it was good to see you again."

Dan thinks of last time and ducks his head before Phil can see how flustered that makes him. 

"Yeah," he says instead, "it was good to see you too."

"So you're in a play?"

"No. Ugh… it's just a small part. Nothing really."

"I'm sure it's not," Phil says. "I bet you're great."

His voice is so warm, so sincere even though he has no reason to be so nice. He doesn't know Dan, not really. At least not who he is now. 

Dan risks a glance over to him. Phil still looks mostly the same, right down to the shirt he's wearing which has birds on it. It isn't one Dan recognises, of course, but it's familiar anyway in the way that it suits him. Dan is willing to bet that despite that, Phil is different too. And Dan might as well not know him at all. 

He shocks himself with how much he wants to know this Phil, how it's immediately evident at that moment with how he's leaning in slightly, as if by magnetic pull. 

"Will you text me the details?" Phil says, "I'd love to come."

Phil holds his hand out, long slender fingers cupped to receive the phone that Dan automatically pulls from his pocket and drops into them. 

Phil types his number in quickly and passes it back. 

"Actually text this time," Phil says. "Don't… chicken out like I did."

Dan shakes his head, “I won’t. In fact--” 

Dan turns the phone over in his hand and sends a text to the number Phil just saved. 

“You have my number now too,” he explains, “so we both can’t chicken out.” 

Phil offers him another one of those smiles Dan loves so much and pulls his phone out when it vibrates. 

“Got it.” 

Just then, Luca appears at their side, standing a touch too close. 

“You ready to go?” he asks. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Luca gently ushers him away, nodding a little at Phil by way of acknowledgment. Dan still isn’t sure if Luca is telling the whole truth about why he’s upset. There could be a hint of jealousy in there somewhere. Maybe. 

“How did you meet him?” Luca asks when they're on the underground. 

“He’s just someone I hung out with in my gap year.” 

“Before your first course?” 

Dan roll his eyes, because of course Luca would bring that up. 

“Yes. When I was like, 18.” 

“And you haven't seen him since?” 

He swallows, tilting his head to the dark window to watch the walls of the tunnel slip by. 

“No.”

Dan doesn’t know why he lies. There really is nothing to hide. It might have meant something to him back when they met, and Dan might have thought it was something more than it was, but it hadn’t been enough. It was just one of those things that happens, a brief encounter you remember fondly but that was ultimately doomed. 

As for last year, the less Dan thinks about that the better. It’s too bittersweet. To think about it means to acknowledge how much it still hurts a little. But like most things Dan has wanted and didn’t get, he isn’t sure whether he actually still wants it. Like a balloon that slips out of your grasp. You’re angry at yourself for loosening your fist so that it could float away, sad that it will never come back, but undeniable in the face of how pretty it is curling in the sky. 

Dan doesn’t even wait until he’s back home to text Phil. 

 

**February 2014**  
_Manchester_

“Are you kidding?” 

“No,” Phil says, “I’m not. I mean… it’s not the same one. And, well, it’s not in the same place but… I thought it would be fun?” 

Phil watches Dan’s face turn from surprised to thoughtful as he tips his head back and looks up. 

“It looks like the same one.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Like us then,” Dan points out. 

That fizzes somewhere behind Phil’s ears, at the back of his head. It’s slightly uncomfortable but Dan is right. They aren’t the same as the last time they stood here and looked up, and the large ferris wheel before them isn’t the same either. 

It’s a different wheel entirely in fact, in a completely different spot. Phil had been sort of upset when they’d removed the old one in 2012 for reasons he couldn’t identify at the time, but looking at Dan, hand shielding his eyes as he looks up into the February sun, Phil understands. He’s understood for a while. That’s why they’re here. 

But suddenly, none of this feels right at all. They aren’t the same, the wheel isn’t the same. He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes twice.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Phil says suddenly, turning and walking away from the wheel, Dan Trailing behind him. 

“You don’t want to go on it?” 

“No.”

“Oh.” 

Phil might be imagining it, but he thinks Dan sounds a little disappointed. 

“It was a stupid idea,” Phil says, “I don’t know what I--”

“No, no. I get it,” Dan says, “Bad memories. Or, you know, weird ones. I get it.” 

Phil stops, wincing as Dan walks right in to him before backing off with a small exclamation. 

“That wasn’t what I meant.” 

“What did you mean then? For god’s sake Phil you’re being so weird.” 

It’s strange how they’ve become friends over the past year. Phil had seen him at that work thing and he hadn’t wanted to let him slip through his fingers yet again. It was crazy that the universe had put Dan in his path so many times. The internet, the restaurant, the… party. Then the work thing, and Phil had to take it as a sign at that point. 

The play had been the start. Phil had sat four rows from the front and smiled like an idiot every time Dan was on stage. He looked happy, finally, gloriously happy. 

He’d gone backstage after and managed to act more surprised that he felt when Dan told him that he and Luca had broken up. 

They had a drink, and then coffee, and then suddenly Dan was back in his life and kept dropping round his flat and London seemed a lot brighter for it. 

Work is picking up, and Phil is getting to direct a short film this year and it’s all working out. Phil needed to go to the Manchester office again and it made sense in his head that he invite Dan. Stay the weekend. 

When he found out a new wheel had been put up for new years he thought it was another sign. Something the universe was telling him he needed to do. 

But that was then. Ferris wheels and sky bars and first dates were all in the past. Phil wants his feet firmly on the ground this time, to keep his head out of the clouds. 

“Let’s just get coffee,” Phil says. Because Starbucks is as much a part of their story as the stupid wheel is. 

Starbucks is too warm inside for their coats and scarves, Phil feels a prickle on his scalp like he gets when he's overheating and unwinds the wool from around his neck. He thinks some of it might be nerves. 

He's resolved to do this, and he's going to, it just won't be up in the air with the wind threaded through Dan's hair like he thought. Dan's cheeks won't be bitten pink by the wind and they won't have to move a little closer for warmth. 

Dan won't slot their fingers together and lean over-- wait. That was the first time. That's not now.

Instead they sit in old leather armchairs opposite each other. The back of the chair is at too much of a recline so Phil shuffles to the edge of the seat, perches so he can reach his coffee and see Dan's eyes. 

“This is weird,” Dan says, breaking the tension and reading Phil's mind all at once.

He still has a habit of doing that. That much is the same. 

“Yes,” Phil says, “at least it's not the same Starbucks.”

Dan sighs, just a small thing that jostles his shoulders slightly. Phil might not even have noticed it at all if he wasn't looking quite so intently. 

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” 

Phil nods, turning his mug on the table, fiddling with the handle, pressing fingertips to the hot ceramic until it's just this side of too much. 

“That's what I… I mean. I'd like to. Now, if that's okay?” 

“I don't really know what to say.”

Dan slumps back in the chair, folds his hands on his lap where his scarf is in a rough ball. He fiddles with the fringed end of it, pulling them through his fingers over and over. He's nervous, or agitated. Phil wishes this were easier.

“Then let me,” Phil says, gearing up.

He moves the cup to the side, sliding it with the back of his hand sideways so that he has a clear line of sight across the table. It makes a loud scraping noise and droplets of coffee are sloshed on to the table.

“I was a complete idiot all those years ago,” he says, “I was young and I didn't know what I was doing. You were even younger… and you had even less idea and… Dan…”

He's losing the thread of what he's saying because he'd expected Dan to understand by now, to have sat up, looked happy. He didn't expect him to still be slumped backwards, the scarf running through his hands over and over so that Phil thinks it might fray. 

“I know what I'm doing now. What I want. I want you. I want to give this a try again.”

Dan doesn’t say anything. He does get a faint line between his brows that Phil wants to swipe away with his thumb, but his mouth stays firmly shut. 

“I’m not doing this right,” Phil says. 

“What would right be, exactly?” 

Phil shrugs, “I don’t know. I just… I want to…” 

“I think you’re doing pretty good about saying what you want Phil.” Dan says, sitting up a little bit, dropping the scarf over the arm of the chair. “But not really great at asking me what I want.”

“I... “ he pauses, and nods. “You’re right. I’m not. What… um, what _do_ you want, Dan?” 

Dan doesn’t answer straight away like Phil hopes. He lets a little silence linger between them, possibly because he’s thinking, possibly because he is letting Phil wait for it. Phil has poured his heart out into his hands and Dan is leaving it to stew in the frigid air between them. 

“I want to make better choices,” he says, finally. “I want to finish something. My degree, for instance. I want to be myself. I don’t want to be denying who I am, pretending I’m someone else for the person I’m with. I finally have that Phil, just a little bit, and I don’t think I want to do anything to rock the boat.” 

Phil feels the bottom drop out of his stomach, a sick sour feeling that will follow him around after this. He knows it will. 

Dan had come out of nowhere the first time. He’d shoved his way in to Phil’s life with his elbows out to make room and Phil hadn’t know how to deal with the onslaught of all those feelings, how to be okay with the space Dan took up. How to stay on the path he’d been on, keep aiming for the things he’d been aiming for, and take Dan with him. He didn’t think he had any right to ask Dan to come with him. 

Phil had thought, now, that they were finally in the same space. Finally at a point where Phil had reached the things he’d been reaching for, where Dan was happy. He looked happy, every time Phil saw him on stage, or with a well-worn copy of some play in his hands, he looked happy.

He thought it was time, but he’s beginning to realise it’s not. 

“I’m not done yet,” Dan continues. “You might have got everything you wanted but I still have things I need to do, things I _have_ to do. I don’t have room for anything else.” 

“Okay,” Phil says, his voice quieter than he’d like. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

Phil looks up, catches the scared hesitant twist of Dan’s face. 

“But I don’t want to say yes just because I’m afraid you’ll disappear again,” Dan says, “that wouldn’t do either of us any good.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Phil promises. 

And he means it this time.

 

**February 2010**  
_India_

Phil has been fiddling with a piece of paper for 10 solid minutes before Dan asks him about it. 

“Um,” Phil says, moving it out of shot. There's a little lag on the shitty hotel WiFi, and Dan watches it linger for a split second in the corner, bright white in the glow of the laptop screen, before it disappears. “It’s… I have some, kind of, news? I guess.” 

Phil has news. That’s good, because Dan has some of his own and he keeps having to stop himself flicking between windows on his computer to look at it. It’s been there since January but Dan has been holding it close and secret. He thought maybe he’d tell Phil on his birthday, but he’d chickened out. Valentine’s day is just as good. He has to be brave this time.

It’s technically Valentine’s day here, because it’s the early hours of the morning. Not quite back where Phil is though. 

“What’s the news?” he says. 

Phil can go first, then he’ll tell him. Phil will be happy, right? He won’t think Dan is crazy for doing it, or maybe he’ll be mad that Dan made that kind of decision without talking to him about it. He isn’t sure. But he needs to tell him anyway, trading news with him will be the perfect excuse. 

Phil dips his head, fringe falling into his eyes, a black curtain hiding the way he bites his lip. 

The image is a little blurry but Dan knows what it looks like. He can recall what Phil looks like when he bites his lip, when he hides behind his hair, when he looks up from underneath it, those blue eyes full of something hot and deep and intense. He shifts in his seat and tries not to think about it too much. 

He’s glad his parents are out at the hotel bar, and his brother fell asleep ages ago so that if he keeps his headphones in and talks low, it’s almost like it’s just them.

“So a few months ago I…” Phil clears his throat, looks up. “I applied to an internship. For a company in Manchester.” 

“Uh huh.”

“It’s to do video editing. You know, like use my degree.” He laughs, a bit. He still looks nervous. “I got a letter today, that’s what the paper is. I… I got it. I got the internship.” 

“That’s great!” Dan says. 

Phil has an internship. In Manchester. He knew Phil had been worrying about what to do with his life, how he was going to ‘get to the next tetris block’ as he put it. He’d thought he’d give YouTube a go if nothing else came up but they both know it isn’t a viable career. Not really. It’s not like anyone can make a living with YouTube. 

That’s exactly why Dan applied to uni. 

Phil will be in Manchester and Dan will be there too. 

“It is…” Phil says, his voice sliding low in Dan’s headphones, so soft through the crackle of his old laptop that Dan can barely hear him. “Except…” 

“Except what?” 

“Except…. Dan, I won’t be able to do YouTube anymore. I won’t really be able to do anything anymore.” 

“Well, that’s okay,” Dan says, “It was fun while it lasted I guess. RIP AmazingPhil. Going to be a lot of broken hearted fangirls out there.” 

He tries not to include himself in that. 

“Heh, yeah.” 

“Are you okay?” 

There’s something else, something Phil isn’t saying, because the silence spins out away from them and it’s nothing like the comfortable silences they usually share. It’s jagged, like something awful is hiding in the darkest parts of it. 

“Actually,” Dan says, when the silence has gone on for too long. “I have some--” 

“Dan,” Phil interrupts, “I need… to like, focus. On getting a proper job. You understand that, right? You’re always talking about the future and how your dad says you need to be responsible and stuff?”

“Yes, but--”

“Well, that’s what I mean. I need to do this.” 

“You should,” Dan nods, “you should do it.” 

“Good.” Phil says, looking a little relieved, “I knew you’d understand.” 

Dan isn’t sure, but it feels like they’re having two different conversations. As usual, Dan is lost and Phil is storming on ahead. He’s always a little lost, always racing to catch up, to find himself and where he should be. Phil has found that. 

Maybe Dan has no place there. 

“Oh,” Dan says, suddenly understanding. “Right. Yeah, of course.” 

Dan looks over his shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut where Phil can’t see them and opens them again to look at a world in this new configuration. The world where Phil is getting a proper job, and Dan doesn’t fit into that picture. The world where Dan won’t ever tell Phil he got in to Manchester uni, that he’d applied not solely because of him, but a little bit because of him. A world where the thing between them that they’ve resisted naming, but that Dan holds dear and close and tight in times when everything seems awful, has fallen irreparably apart. 

“I have to go,” he says, turning his head back.

“I guess it’s pretty late there, huh?” Phil says

“Yes.” 

“And you’re going to bed and leaving me all alone?” 

Dan nods. “Yeah.” 

“I think I’ll read up on the company then,” Phil says, smiling widely. “I’ll talk to you soon?” 

“Yeah,” Dan says, “I’ll talk to you soon. Will you be home tomorrow?” 

Phil shrugs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dan thinks, afterwards, weeks later when they haven’t spoke in a few days, that Phil had meant it at the time. He didn’t think he was going anywhere but he did anyway. 

It doesn’t happen overnight, but it breaks down slowly. By the time Dan is pulling up outside of his halls on the first day of uni, he hasn’t spoken to Phil in a few months. 

He never got round to telling him, even though he’s pretty sure he knows the direction of Phil’s new apartment and he catches himself looking in that direction a few times. 

On the floor below his, a girl with faded blue hair who says she’s going to dye it again soon offers him a drink at a party and they get talking. Dan doesn’t forget about Phil, but he finds a way for it to hurt less.

 

**February 2015**  
_London_

“Your flat is stupid,” Dan announces as he comes through the door. 

“Hello to you too,” Phil says, leaning over the railing of the mezzanine, “I happen to like it.” 

“There are too many stairs.” 

“Funny,” Phil says and Dan begins to climb the almost-ladder up to his bedroom. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“Well,” Dan says, flopping down on to Phil’s bed next to him, jostling Phil and the laptop on his knee. “You have it anyway.” 

The key to Phil’s flat is looped around Dan’s finger and Phil can’t help but smile. 

“How was class?” 

“Good,” Dan says, “we’re prepping for exams in May. Can you believe second year is nearly over? God. We’re all dying.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Phil says, kicking out at him where Dan’s feet have strayed over on to his side. “I’m going to live forever.”

Dan flops over on to his front dramatically, burying his head against Phil’s thigh in the process. He wonders if Dan knows he’s doing things like this, how it makes Phil feel when he does. 

True to his word, Phil hasn’t brought it up again. But it doesn’t mean his feelings have gone away. 

The last year has proved to him that he really is sure about what he wants, and he thinks Dan might want it to. He was right, he does need to focus on his obligations and Phil would never push anything on him that he didn’t want but… sometimes Dan looks at him and he could swear it’s 2009. Sometimes Dan leans in a little close, lingers in a hug a touch too long. 

Sometimes Phil wants to push it, just a little bit, to see what he’ll do.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Dan asks, “See a movie?” 

Phil looks down at him. Dan has let his hair go curly and it sits in soft waves across his forehead, spilling on to the black of Phil’s jeans and Phil itches to run his hands through it. 

“Tonight?” Phil asks, “Are you sure?” 

“What’s wrong with tonight?” 

“It’s the fourteenth…” 

Dan pouts, “Hm. Right.” 

“I mean… it’ll be busy.” Phil clarifies, “I’m not opposed to taking you out on Valentine’s day Dan.” 

Dan rolls a little to hide his face, “Ugh. Fine. Yes.” 

“Yes what?” Phil smirks, “Yes I’m right, or yes you want to go on a Valentine’s day date with me?” 

Dan look up, props himself on one elbow. 

“I didn’t say date…” 

He doesn’t look away, and Phil doesn’t either. 

“ _You_ didn’t,” he says, “I did.” 

Dan bites his lip, which also drives Phil crazy. He blinks, once, twice, and then nods. 

“Not a _date_ date,” Dan says, whatever that means. “Just a… date.” 

“Okay,” Phil agrees. “Just a date.” 

-

Later, on the street, Dan is blowing in to his hands where he’s forgotten his gloves. 

“You know,” Phil says, “If this were a real date, I’d hold your hand to keep it warm.” 

“Oh really?” Dan says. 

“Yup.” 

Dan drops his hands, lets one swing between them. Phil slides his fingers in between Dan’s and shares his warmth. He smiles to himself, a small satisfied expression he barely knows he’s making and catches Dan’s matching one in his peripheral. 

-

“You don’t have to pay,” Phil says at the ticket machine, “It’s not like this is a real date. If it was then you’d get the tickets and I’d get the snacks. But since--” 

Dan rolls his eyes and jams his card into the machine. 

-

Phil keeps it up all evening, reminding Dan that on a real date he could share his M&Ms but since this wasn’t a date date, Dan had to stick to his own food. 

By the time Phil is dropping Dan off at his shared student house, which is much closer to the cinema that Phil’s apartment is, Dan looks like he might have had enough of this particular joke. 

“If this were a real date--” Phil starts, his hands in his pockets, his nose red in the cold. 

Dan doesn’t let him finish, he rocks forward onto the balls of his feet, ducks his head a little and kisses Phil square on the mouth.

It’s sweet, and lingering without asking for more and as the cold wind whips at Phil’s hair, and the icy touch of Dan’s nose presses in to his cheek where he’s tipped his head, he can’t help but remember the first time. 

But this isn’t like that. Phil’s stomach still flips over, and he still feels that rush of something frantic in his stomach, like he wants to keep this forever, but it’s so much more. 

Dan isn’t shy or hesitant, he doesn’t flinch when Phil reaches out to slide an arm around him and pull him closer. He licks into the seam of Phil’s lips like he’s been doing it for years. Gone is the boy with the identity crisis and the worries about what it meant to be kissing a boy. Gone is the boy who had to wait until they were 200 feet in the air before he could try it. 

Dan kisses him on the pavement right outside his house in the middle of London. Phil kisses him back. 

“Is that what you were going to say?” Dan asks as they part, arms still around each other. 

“What?” 

“That if this was a real date you’d kiss me goodnight?” 

Phil shakes his head, feeling the warmth collected against him where Dan’s body is pressed against his, chest to chest. He doesn’t want to let go.

“I was going to say if it was a real date you’d invite me in for coffee and I’d have to politely decline.” He laughs, “I’m a gentleman you know.” 

Dan scoffs. “Yeah right.”

He pulls away then, shifting backwards and taking the warmth with him, Phil’s heart drops. This is just a fantasy, a joke taken a little too far and Dan means more to him than that. He doesn’t want to play pretend anymore. 

“It’s not a real date though,” Phil says. 

“No…”

“So, you should go inside. And I should go home.” 

Dan shakes his head, clenches his fist by his side for a few seconds before shaking out his fingers. 

“It’s not that I… Phil, you know that... “ He sighs, visibly annoyed with himself. “Dammit Phil, we’ve talked about this.” 

“I know,” Phil says, “which is exactly why I’m saying you should go inside.” 

“I don’t want to go inside.” 

Phil lifts his hands, shrugs a little. “What do you want then, Dan? I’m… help me out here.” 

“I don’t know,” Dan runs a hand through his hair, tugs a little. “Does it have to be this complicated?” 

“Yes,” Phil nods, “No. I don't know.”

“Cards on the table?” 

“Please.”

“I don't want it to be complicated. I wanted to say yes last year, but I've got a bad track record of giving things up or at least… not fighting for them.”

“I should have fought too,” Phil interjects. “Not last year. Last year was… you were right. But back then, back when we… I should have tried harder “

“It's not all on you. I was basically a kid. Hell, maybe I still am a little bit. In some ways. You had your own dreams to chase and I had barely any idea what I was doing. I'd have followed you to Manchester and gone along with whatever it was you wanted me to do. I don't think that would have been good for either of us.”

“Maybe it would have been,” Phil says. “who knows what would have happened if we'd made different choices.”

“Really? Phil Lester not thinking something is destiny, that the universe doesn't have it all mapped out?” 

“If it Is,” Phil says, smirking and shoving Dan lightly, “the universe found a way to bring you back to me didn't it? A few times. I'm just a little slow on the uptake.”

Dan shakes his head, a wide smile stretches his plush pink lips and dips a dimple in his cold-bitten cheeks. 

“That's not destiny, it's just... statistically improbable. We aren't here because the universe wills it, we're here because of the choices we made.”

“Okay,” Phil says.

Dan steps back closer to him, bringing his warmth back. Phil can't help himself, he automatically raises his arms and winds them around him. Dan fits there, he's always fit there, no matter how they've changed and shifted or the paths they've taken. He always fit. 

“What choice do you want to make now?” Phil asks. 

Dan leans in, his palm soft on the back of Phil's neck, and kisses him.

“Slow” he says, as they part. Words merely a huff of breath against his mouth. “I need to do this slowly. It can't be...”

Phil nods, “I know. Me too.”

He's so scared of ruining things. He'll take it as slow as they both need. He's not in any rush. After all, he's waited this many years already.

“Do you want to come in?” Dan asks. 

Phil shakes his head, releasing Dan from his arms and letting his warmth diffuse into the night air. 

“I'm a gentleman,” Phil says, tongue in the corner of his mouth, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Maybe next time.”

Dan bites his lip, tugs on the end of his scarf, shy and hesitant suddenly.

“Will next time be a date?”

“Yes,’ Phil says, “A _date_ date. The first of many.”

 

**February 2016**  
_London_

Dan lets his head hit the desk. Not the desk, the join between two pages of a book he’d been reading. 

“It’s not that bad,” Phil says, sliding a paper coffee cup across the table. 

“Says you,” Dan says, lifting his head to accept the coffee, “you finished your masters degree like a million years ago.” 

“Hey!” 

Dan sniggers and takes a sip of coffee. The backs of his eyelids feel like gravel, dry and tired. But he just has to get through this essay and then one performance and he’s done. 

It’s been difficult, balancing the work with being in the show, but he’s making it work. Phil is right there too, bringing his coffee and not getting too mad when Dan gets in too late when they do one more curtain call than usual. 

He wants to come to every show, Dan knows, he’d love to be there right in the front row. He has a grown up job though, one where he actually needs to be able to focus in the morning, so Dan puts a stop to it fairly early on. 

It’s nearly over though. Then it's on to the next thing. Speaking of which--

“I need to talk to you.” 

“Uh oh,” Phil says, dropping his black satchel onto the seat next to him and sliding in beside Dan. He doesn’t carry a briefcase because he says it makes him feel old.

“No,” Dan says. “Not uh oh. Or, well, maybe. I don’t know.” 

Phil looks serious. He swipes his hair out of his eyes and props an elbow on the table, turning in his seat to ensure he’s facing Dan straight on. 

“Go on.” 

“So after the matinee show yesterday Duncan called me in to his office.” 

Phil nods, gesturing for him to continue. 

“And he told me that Paul is dropping out of the lead.” 

Dan can see the start of a smile on Phil’s face. He’s not telling this right. He’s doing it all wrong. 

“And they want you to have the part?” 

Dan nods, “But--” 

“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you. Oh, we should celebrate. Once you’re finished with revision I mean. Dinner! Movie? What do you want?” 

“Phil, Phil. Wait.” Dan reaches out and places a hand on Phil’s forearm. He’s still got a bit of chill from outside, a little of February air still clinging to him. “That’s not all.” 

“Hm?” 

“The part it’s… I mean. Yes, I’d be the lead but…” 

“You’re not making any sense.” 

Dan feels sick. He knows what he wants and how it’s going to sound but he can’t find the words to tell Phil. It’s all wrong, a slightly uneven feeling, like an emotion he doesn’t recognise. Phil is Phil and he’s warm and lovely and supportive always, Dan knows that he won’t hold it against him. Somehow that makes it worse. 

“The show is touring.” Dan sighs, “I’d be… touring. For six months.” 

Phil’s mouth parts. Dan knows he’s trying to find words to tell him that it’s great, that he’ll support Dan no matter what. He’s searching for them, but it’s not that easy. 

They haven’t named the thing between them. True to their word from a year ago, they’ve taken it slow. 

They’re something more than friends but not quite everything they could be. Phil means more to him than anything else, except finally seeing something through. Finally being who he is without parts of him being made up of someone else. He needs to be a full person, one he’s crafted himself. 

“I… that’s great.” 

“Phil. Don’t.” 

“I’m not… I’m…” 

Dan rises from his seat, scraping it back noisily, echoing around their kitchen. 

“I’d need to focus on this. I won’t have time for anything else. I need to focus on like, doing my first proper role. You understand that, right?” 

He’s being cruel. He knows that he is, but anything to get some emotion from Phil that isn’t this perfectly put together version of him. He doesn't want perfect, he wants real and honest. He wants Phil to be mad. He’d be mad if it was the other way around. He was mad, back when it was the other way around.

Phil does frown slightly, which is something. 

Suddenly he’s back on a pixelated Skype call and Phil’s voice is buzzing into his skull through his headphones. He feels scared and nervous and he gets it, how it must have been for Phil. But repeating their old mistakes won’t solve anything. 

“I’d have followed you,” Dan says. “Back then. I would have… God, I don’t know. I don’t know what would have happened or where we would have ended up. I’m not sure I even cared enough to wonder. I just wanted you. You were the only thing I wanted.” 

Phil nods, slowly, his head bobbing but his eyes not leaving Dan’s face. 

“I’m not going to ask you to come with me, or to wait for me, or any of that. I’m not going to ask because you didn't ask me. And maybe I need you to know what that feels like.” 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to though, does it?” 

Dan sniffs. His eyes are starting to prickle but he isn’t going to cry. He’s not. 

“I want to,” he says, his voice cracking a little despite himself. “I do want to but… it’s not…” 

“I want to ask you. I wanted to tell you to move to Manchester and live with me and all sorts of crazy, wild, dreamlike ideas. I wanted to ask you to do all of that but I couldn't, Dan. I couldn’t ask you to give up everything you wanted to do for me.” 

Phil stands up now, coming over to him and folding him close. Dan ducks his head and presses his face into the space between Phil’s shoulder and jaw and breathes in the scent of him. It’s like home. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers, “but I’ve come so far, I’m almost there. Almost. I don’t want to lose that either.” 

Dan lets it play out in his head, how this could go. How he’ll pack a bag and leave the tiny flat they rent together with the separate bedrooms and the shared furniture. How they’ll promise to call and to Skype but how it will slide away, fade in to nothing. How when he comes back he’ll be different again, how he’ll always be different, he’ll keep changing.

He’d been someone else when he first met Phil. Then he’d changed to a person he thought Heather wanted, and then to someone Luca would find cool. He’s been so many different people he feels like he’s lived lifetimes a few times over.

He’ll keep changing, he realises. Because no one stays the same. 

How is anything supposed to survive that? 

“I should have tried harder,” Phil says. His voice is a little broken too, and Dan doesn’t want to look up and catch that emotion on his face because it might make it worse. “And you should have. I know you’re not asking me to come with you, and I’m not going to. But I am going to try harder, and you are going to try harder. We’re different people now, this is different.” 

“But what--” 

“No,” Phil says, tugging him tighter, arms around his waist as if he’s scared Dan will float away. “This is how it is, Dan. It isn’t always easy, it’s work. You’re right, the universe doesn't just throw things your way. Or it might, but it’s only a starting point. You don’t give up on the things you want, on chasing your dreams. You work for them until you’ve got them. Until no one can take them away from you.”

Dan lifts his head and Phil’s eyes are glassy, but they’re determined too. His face is set with as forceful an expression as Dan has ever seen him wear. 

“I’m not going to give up on this, Dan. You’re the best thing I ever dreamed of and I’ll damn well keep chasing you.” 

Dan closes his eyes and lets the tears fall at that. “Okay,” he whispers. “Let’s try harder this time.”

 

**February 2017**  
_London_

Dan looks beautiful. His head tipped back in the glow of a spotlight, a wide smile on his face, glowing with a sheen of sweat and the pleased expression of a job well done. 

He’s done it. Closing night. 

He looks out into the audience finally, catching Phil’s eye where he’s sat in the front row. 

Phil makes his way backstage when the curtain comes down, but he’s stopped at the door by a member of staff in a yellow polo shirt. 

“Sorry sir, you can’t go through here. Exits are to the back of the auditorium.” 

Phil is about to explain when Dan’s voice shouts from behind her. 

“It’s okay,” he says, “that’s my boyfriend.” 

Phil forgets to say thank you to the woman as he walks past, because he will never get sick of hearing Dan call him that. Finally. 

“You were great,” he says, reaching Dan and trying to hug him. 

“Ugh, don’t. I’m all sweaty.” 

“Don’t care,” Phil says, pawing at him anyway. 

It’s too good to see him. It hasn’t been too long, because he’s travelled to way more shows than he should have. Dan made him stop when he fell asleep on the train to work one morning and missed his stop. 

He catches Dan by the arm and pulls him over, tipping him off balance. He is sweaty, warm and damp and Phil couldn’t give a damn. His hair is curling at the ends and his cheeks are rosy and it’s so good to have him back in his arms.

Dan laughs as they part, a little too loud. “Come on you dork, let’s go.” 

He leads Phil to his dressing room, where there’s a laminated sign on the door with his name. 

When the door closes, Dan stretches his arms out, “I’m all keyed up.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Phil says, sitting on the small dark grey sofa against one wall, “where do you get your energy from?” 

“I don’t know,” Dan shrugs, “I just feel all… like when I get off stage I’m just…” 

“Happy?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“You seem happy,” Phil says, propping his feet up on the little coffee table. “On Skype and stuff. Are you sad that it’s over?” 

“A little,” Dan says, finally sitting in the chair across the way, in front of the mirror. He watches Phil through the reflection. “I’m glad you’re nearby again though. And London is a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Hm,” Phil hums.

He must sound disappointed because Dan rolls his eyes and turns in him chair. 

“I’m trying to play it cool,” he says. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know,” he says, “Because… I don’t know what happens now. We haven’t talked about it.” 

“What do you want to happen?” 

Dan slides off the chair and comes to sit next to Phil, picking up his hand and holding it delicately, studying his fingers. 

“I’m glad I did this,” he says, “It’s been the best thing I’ve done and I feel like I finally… well, like I did something for me, you know?” 

“Yeah, you did. You were amazing.” 

“But… I missed you. So much. I guess I’m trying to find a way to be okay with missing you when it kind of feel likes I’m… I dunno, too attached or something.”

“Do you think you’re supposed to do everything on your own?” Phil asks. 

“Maybe. To be honest I have absolutely no idea what I _should_ be doing. I never have. But I realised that, you know... Who the fuck does?” 

“Exactly. So just… do whatever you want. Miss me if you want. Or you know, don’t. It doesn’t have any bearing on who you are if you don’t want it to.”

Dan is quiet, the residual energy in him dulled to a low twitch of his leg, jostling a little.

“What are you going to do like, with the show?” 

“I have… Duncan is doing another project soon. A new play actually, and he… well he said he’d be happy for me to be involved in that somehow.” 

“Is it... “ Phil shakes his head. He doesn’t want to ask if it’s in London, he doesn’t want to set the expectation that it needs to be. “Something you’d want to get involved in?” 

“It sounds good,” Dan nods, “great, really.”

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“I want… Can we... “ Dan blows air out of his mouth, up over his forehead so that his fringe flutters slightly before settling. “I’d like your input. As my… I want to be in this together. If that’s something you want.” 

“You know I do.”

“Good. I did this tour for me, I took this job because it felt like something I had to do, to prove to myself that I could. But now that I’ve done that… I don’t want to do ‘slow’ anymore. I don’t want there to be any doubt about what you mean to me, what part you play in my life. I’m all in. I’ll stay here or I’ll follow you to another city, there are theatres anywhere.” 

“That’s… a lot.” 

“It’s how I feel.” 

Phil lets the feeling of that drift over him. It’s both comfortable and shocking, soothing and refreshing. It’s everything he wants. 

“Then let it be known that I will follow you too. I’ll come with you on tour, I’ll commute… I’ll get a new job. Let’s just... decide together.” 

Dan laughs, a relieved huff of breath right over the tiny space between them and he flops down, falling with his arms out, catching Phil around the neck. 

He kisses Phil once, soundly. Their lips smack together, loud and raucous, drowning out the noise of blood rushing in Phil’s head from his heart beating wildly. 

Phil kisses him back, the taste of Dan on his tongue the same as it always is. He’ll never get sick of it, familiar and well known, but changing all the time. He’s known Dan in so many different ways, and loved him in every iteration.

“For the record, I think London is good for now.” Dan says

“There might be something else though,” Phil points out, “in the future. If there’s anything we should have learned from all the times we almost-were, all the times the universe threw us together when we weren’t quite ready for it, it’s that you shouldn’t give up chasing your dreams. Neither should I.” 

“Except now we’ll chase _our_ dreams, right?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, “ _Ours_.”

“You know I don’t believe in all of that universe stuff.” 

“I know, but I can’t help believing that you were somehow meant for me. A little bit.” 

Dan shakes his head, fondly exasperated. 

“It’s just choices we made, Phil. We chose not to try harder, chose not to text, chose to date other people.” 

“You’re forgetting the part where we chose to have sex in a utility room at a party.” 

Dan rolls his eyes. “The point is, you chose to take that internship just like I chose to do this tour.” 

“And now?” 

“And now we’re choosing to do this together.”

“I like the sound of that.” 

Dan kisses him again and Phil finally feels settled. It’s been a long road to get to where they are but it finally feels right. 

“You were the best choice I ever made, and I intend to keep making it.”


End file.
